I originally
wrote this for my first graders but it can easily be applied to any age
children—even grown-ups. It was
originally written as a song, which you’ll see (hear) in a minute. I am presenting the visualization here as if you
are going to do it. That way, you can
get to know it before you share it with any children in your care. Once you have learned it and want to share it
with say, children aged 5-7, you can dovetail it with a little arithmetic study
and look at the number 5 as a living thing—it’s a star (pentagon),

and it lives
in the center of an apple cut in half width-wise,

and in the form of a human
being with their arms and legs outstretched.

That said,
the visualization is short yet profound, especially for those children already
carrying the idea that they aren’t good enough, or that they’re bad, stupid, or
dumb. This little visualization, when done
regularly, will help such children (and all children) touch their innate
goodness and light.

You can do
this visualization anywhere and anytime you need to feel yourself filled with
Light. J

OK, let’s
get started.

Watch this
video beginning at 4:13 so you can learn the song. Let yourself sing it and freely move the gestures
(or make up your own).Young children
especially learn with their whole body, so definitely encourage them to do the
gestures, and you can do that best by doing the gestures first and then with
the children.

The words to
the song are as follows:

I am
star with a Light in my body,

I am a
star with a Light in my mind,

I am a
star with a Light in my heart,

I shine
my Light all of the time.

I shine
for myself and I shine for you,

I
shine my Light in all that I think, say, and do.

*

Find
a comfy place to sit or stand.

Close
your eyes.

Breathe
in slowly and deeply

Filling
your belly.

Hold
that breath a second or two.

Then
slowly let that breath go.

Do
that 3 or 4 times.

Now
look inside your mind.

Find
your star.

Find
the star that lives in you.

Everyone
has a star living in them.

Find
your star. See your star.

See
your star shining within you.

It’s
there, just behind your eyes,

Right
there in your mind.

You
can feel it

Shining
in your heart.

Be
with your star.

Let
its Light shine in you.

And
today

Let
your star shine

In
your thoughts.

Let
your star shine

In
your deeds.

Let
your star shine

In
the words you speak.

Let
your star shine

In
all that you do.

Hold
that star.

It
is always with you.

Forever
more.

That
star IS you.

Now
be in silence for a few moments

Seeing
your star shining within you.

Now
open your eyes.

Know
that you shine.

Know
that YOU

Are
a star.

*

As you go
through the day with the young children (or yourself) you’ve shared this visualization
with, you can point out times when they share star-thoughts, star-actions, and star-words. Praise your children as they shine. Praise yourself as you shine.

I remembered this post I wrote almost exactly a year ago. Its words resonate louder with me today. I hope you feel them too.

Beneath the tree, and below the ground—a vast, intimate exchange of water flows. Roots spread through the dark soil, nursing hidden springs. Cicada nymphs, half-asleep; nuzzle the roots of the trees for nearly twenty years.

Imagine for a moment—on the day you were born, a brood of cicadas hatches below a tree, perhaps in your own back yard. And on the night of your thirteenth birthday, or your seventeenth birthday, or on the night of your graduation party, the cicada nymphs emerge from the earth and slowly crawl their way up the rough bark of an oak tree, painstakingly—their front claws like grappling hooks, hoisting themselves ever upwards.

Imagine one of those cicadas is your daemon–your spirit guide—the physical manifestation of your dreams and visions. Imagine it continues its aching ascent, until it cannot lift one more claw. It is exhausted. Not only that, but it has an itch that sings a strange, nearly maddening song through its back and head.

Imagine the cicada beginning to pulse and throb with an inner turmoil. Watch as the spot just behind its head, where it meets its body—suddenly and inexplicably–opens, and its broad, triangular face lifts from its husk, as if you were raising your face from a long-furry sleep.

See its yellowish-pinkish-cream colored flesh, and its eyes like dabs of champaign colored paint, looking blankly, yet wisely amazed.

See a carnival of fireflies celebrating the arrival of this newly hatched being.

And then, over the course of several hours, the cicada pours from its own skin, not unlike you pouring from your old ideas of limited beliefs and fears—the old ideas that used to lumber along with hooks that tried grasping onto anything to keep you held down.

Imagine the cicada arching its back with its arms looking like flat, helpless whiskers. Imagine it curling upwards in a marvelous gesture of triumph and praise. Imagine it remains attached to its already drying husk by only the thinnest of chords.

Imagine when you emerge from your old ways, how at first, your wings are truncated stubs waiting to be inflated with warm, clear blood.

But once you step forth from the past, you must steady yourself a moment. It has been such an exhilarating rush of transformation and hard work. Get your bearings, because the wonder of awakening, the discovery of hidden powers, and the call of the waiting sky, are great and can easily blur your thoughts like a drunken haze. So stop a moment and breathe. Feel the air flowing over your clean, glorious body.

Once you are centered let your wings unfurl down your back like a cape divided into two layered parts. Feel them thicken with blood, feel their weight—light, transparent, trimmed with golden veins. Feel the wind finger them gently; separating them to be sure they dry evenly. Feel the wind strum them with satisfaction and praise. Feel your wings thirsting for flight.

Feel the chord of self-doubt snip as you take your final step from the husk which will remain on the side of the tree like a monument for some observant young child to find and treasure.

And when you finally lift into the cool, dew-laden air—for by now the sun will have dawned—and you bank your first turn into the wide open sky, never forget the dark time beneath the earth, sipping the roots of trees, seeing nothing—nothing for years on end—remember so you can teach those earth-bound and visionless. Remember so you can be there to welcome them at the horizon. For your voice will shake the summer night. Your voice will be the summer night. It will be audible heat that will have the magical power of being able to be thrown—cast like a net across the houses and the streets—it will resound from the sidewalks and chimneys—it will drip from the moon and the stars and the dome of heaven itself. It will be unfollowable—but that is good—you do not need followers. You want your voice to rouse the dead, to awaken the sleeping, to excite the dreamers to rise and do, rise and be, rise and run, rise and live. Your voice will be the loudest sound in the shadows of the branches of the night. It will be unmistakable and undeniable.

So blow out the candles or take that diploma and know that somewhere nearby, your dream is being born and while it may take time—years—know that it is there—you will hear it calling in the night—an electric river of blessing—flowing from the trees and the stars—straight into your waiting, trembling heart.

I adapted the image of the chalice and the passing of the Light from a teacher meditation by Rudolf Steiner.

See yourself holding a golden chalice to the sky. Imagine, as you give thanks, Light spiraling down and filling the golden cup. See it spilling over and everywhere. Imagine you suddenly realize you are in a circle of people, each one holding a golden chalice. See yourself passing the Light to the person next to you, pouring it into their chalice, meeting their eyes. See that person, perhaps it’s your father, mother, neighbor, or a relative from the Other Side, maybe it’s Jesus or Mary, Buddha or Krishna, maybe it’s your husband or wife, teacher or mentor, co-worker, or a perfect stranger. See their heart through their eyes, and see that person receiving your Light and then turning and passing it to the next person until it circles back to you. Imagine the Light pouring all around you, running over your cups and beginning to collect at your feet. Imagine the Light lapping at your feet, like cool water, or warm water, whichever sensation brings you more comfort. Imagine the Light spiraling over you and upwards, back to the Source. Imagine everyone in the circle turning outwards and sharing their Light with others who have formed a ring around your circle. Imagine the Light swirls around each of them, chalice to chalice, and that they in turn share it with another, ever widening circle, until people on the streets simply stop, drop their briefcases or cell phones, and step into the circle, lifting their cups to the Light. See this until the world is filled to overflowing with Light—infinite, never-ending, glorious Light. See this until it rings true within your soul. Because this is how it happens. This is how Peace and Goodwill spread throughout the land, person to person, gaze to gaze, chalice to chalice, heart to heart.

I love watching bees gathering nectar from flowers. To watch them amble into a blossom and walk along the silken curtains is pure delight.

Put yourself into that image a moment—of being a worker bee gathering provisions for the hive. See yourself walking into a sacred hall completely surrounded—top to bottom with pink or yellow curtains. See how easily you might stumble in the soft folds as you make your way to the center. How you would ecstatically gather the gifts left on the altar in baskets carried at your sides. How you would thrum with a Divine urgency to complete your task. How you would be charged with an electric desire for sweetness—and to work for the good of the hive. How it would be so hard to turn back from that sacristy of wonder and soar, not knowing if you will find another. And yet, that unknowing would be just a part of the play—for in your heart of hearts you would know–there are other sanctuaries—there are as many as you need, each one opening before you as you dip and rise in the morning air on your holy search for the stuff dreams are made of—the nectar of labor—the pollen of ideas—the honey of desire.

Why not do this now, right where you are? Know that you have a dream and that it is laden with sweetness. It is a dream to fulfill your Heart’s Desire. And Your Heart’s Desire blends seamlessly with the Desires of the Heart of the World—to share, to give, to shine, and to work together in one incredibly beautiful, intricate, and marvelous dance– to spread the gifts of the sun into the darkest corners of the hive of your community.

But you mustn’t kid yourself—you need to know that just as there are assassin bugs hidden in the curtains of the flower waiting to ambush the honeybee, there are doubts and fears hiding behind the curtains of your mind seeking to destroy your dreams and thwart your desires.

So look before you leap. There is little wisdom in just jumping into the darkness—no matter how romantic some people would like to make this act to sound. Study yourself and what it is you want to share with the world. Know yourself and your dreams. Know what you’re after. And while the honeybee is a lone forager, you needn’t embark on your journey alone. Take the hand of a mentor and soar with them to the fields laden with possibilities that await those workers brave enough to face their fears and doubts and leave them far below, as they rise to new heights of creativity and wonder.

*****************

Many of you who know me or follow me on facebook or twitter, have heard me use the expression: “You’re the bee’s knees.” Now you know why I say it. Pass it on. The world needs all the sweetness it can get—the sweetness of positive acknowledgement and praise, the honey of gratitude, and the pollen of encouragement. It needs you and your baskets of destiny to go out into the world and spread the nectar of Your Heart’s Desire.

One day I had enough of being afraid of violent things happening to me. Just because I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, that didn’t mean I had to let it run my life. And in reality, it didn’t. I still functioned in the world. Some of the violent fears I had were being afraid of people breaking into my house, or of people (strangers) being in my house when I got there, or hiding under the bed, in the closet, in the shower. I used to be afraid of being shot at red lights, or in parking lots, just to name a few. But here again they didn’t necessarily own me, they just took up a lot of soul-space. I would still enter my house even while being assailed by violent images. I still took showers (you’ll be glad to know). I still drove my car, and so on. So these irrational fears didn’t stop me from living, they just stopped me from living fully. I see now, while I did suffer from PTSD, some of my bizarre fears were subconsciously designed to get me sufficiently upset so that I would run to my addictions for comfort.

One night, I was home alone and began to get attacked by these types of fears. Instead of giving into them however, and sliding head-first into a pool of panic-induced sweat, I found myself angry. I had had enough of playing these violent images over and over in my head. I got sick and tired of being sick and tired. They were draining my energy, both creative and physical. They were causing me to view the whole world as hostile and evil. They were, as I mentioned, driving me towards my addictions. In short, they were crowding me out of my own life.

And then this idea struck me that I never had before: create a visualization in which I ask the terror-thoughts to manifest themselves into beings and invite them to the table for a little chat. I couldn’t believe my mind’s ears, but I did it. My intuition was fired up. I began imagining each one of the violent thoughts as being a real person. I invited the burglar to come in through the window and have a seat at the table. I asked the weird guy under the bed to come out and join us. He got up, dusted himself off and stomped to the table. I went and opened up the closet and shoved away the shirts on hangers to find the skeleton crouched up, like a dead crow. He crackled and snapped as he rose up, stepped from the clutter, and clicked his way to the dining room. The guy in the shower shouted: “What’s going on? Why’s everybody coming out of their spots?” “Out!” I commanded, “Get out of the shower and into the dining room. Now.” He grumbled like a disappointed kid and pouted his way out of the bathroom. I also invited any stray ghosts, monsters, and all around evil-doers who just happened to be loitering in and around my house. And they all came, an odd parade of creatures, padding and dragging, and slithering and slimming their way to the table.

When we were all settled I pulled up a chair and said, “Alright guys. This needs to stop. What do you want?”

There was an uncomfortable silence among them. The skeleton guy opened and closed his lower jaw. The shower guy was using his knife to dig dirt out from under his fingernails. I winced. The thieves and monsters sat looking glum, like I had just ruined their party, and in fact, I had.

“Do you want…”—I continued, but was interrupted by the guy from under the bed: “We want to be loved,” he burst out.

“Loved? What do you mean?”

“I mean loved, you know, the way you love the happy guys with wings you let hang out with you while you’re praying or sitting cross-legged and doing whatever that is you do.”

“Meditate.” I said.

“Whatever. We want you to love us like the radiant ones that live in your heart–those guys. After all, we can inspire you too.”

I looked at them all for a long time. They looked down at their feet and began sobbing. Big glops of snot plopped on the floor from one of the monster’s noses.

“You have a strange way of asking to be loved,” I said.

“It’s the only way we know how,” said the skeleton, who sat wringing his boney fingers.

The others nodded.

“Alright,” I said, “here’s the deal, I will learn to love you, all of you, as long as you stop terrorizing my head.”

“Once you start to love us,” said a green-eyed werewolf, “we will automatically stop lurking around trying to scare you. We’ll want to go to the movies with you and stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” I stammered.

“And there’s one more thing,” said a Boogyman who lived in the basement.

“What’s that.”

“Once you love us and get to know us, we’ll all want to go home.”

“Home?”

“Yes. The reason we’re here is because you keep us here, and we’d like to go home.”

“Really?” I said, a bit surprised.

The gathered monsters all agreed. They said if I could get to know them well enough, see them for what they really are, they would be free to go back into Nothing, which for them is home sweet home.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll try. Let’s start now by getting to know each other better. Let’s order a pizza. Anyone like pizza?”

And at that question the rowdy crowd began cheering and shouting which toppings they wanted, and they never terrorized me again. I have learned to love them in the same way I would a group of frightened children, and I have even been able to listen to them and let them inspire me to write or sing, and more importantly, I have learned to let them go. Sometimes I remember them and they poke their heads out from around the corner and wave. But then I just look up from the ground and blow them a kiss and move on with my day, and they vanish like deer into the mist.

Today I walk freer than ever before, especially after having made amends and gotten right with my fellow human beings. The world’s a lot less scary when I stop projecting my own misdeeds and judgments. Once you make restitution for harms done, it’s just a little bit harder to be a complete jerk, and thus there are fewer scary guys hiding in the shadows.

I am presently doing variations on this same process with my doubts and worries. I have even begun doing this for my positive thoughts. I creatively visualize myself sitting down to dinner with people I admire: Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., Helen Keller, Emmet Fox, Bill Wilson, and so on. I pick their brains and ask them questions. I ask them what they want me to do, and then I do it. I ask them, in short, how do I honor them and love them? And they are always eager to tell me how.

How can this type of creative visualization be helpful in helping you follow Your Heart’s Desire?

Tomorrow we will play with the words, “worry,” and “fretting.” So tune in then.